


Unfinished Business

by LaMepriseFangirl



Series: The Aftermath of Michael [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ghost Dean Winchester, M/M, Masturbation, Men of Letters, Possessed Dean Winchester, Possession, Samulet, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMepriseFangirl/pseuds/LaMepriseFangirl
Summary: Months after Dean said yes to Michael, Sam is ready to face the archangel and get his brother back. He succeeds, but not for long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Threat of Michael/Sam non-con, reference to drunk underage dub-con
> 
> (Aaaaaaand this fic is moot now that they established how archangel blades work. Oh well.)

City driving is a pain already, but it's even worse for Sam right now since none of the roads lead straight to Dean.

_("This is a blood spell, Samuel," Rowena explains as she puts together the ingredients. "It will draw you to your brother, that is, assuming you have the same parents-"_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"Michael may not sense it immediately, so you have a chance to take him by surprise. I weakened it a wee bit so you can resist the pull if necessary, but it's still going to be... uncomfortable.")_

He finds solace in the thought that if he doesn't get his brother back now, Michael will kill him. This will all be over soon.

Sam didn't let anyone else come with him. They'd just get themselves killed. Castiel and Rowena are the only ones who know he's even doing this. Rowena had no problem with staying behind, while Cas needed to be reminded that he was in fact killed the last time they tried something like this.

Sam stops the car when he reaches a church—a beautiful piece of architecture with stained glass windows—and he gets out, surveying the building.

He holds up his hand like a dowsing rod. His brother is far above him, maybe even in the steeple. Seriously? Sam wonders. He thought Metatron was melodramatic, but Michael might have him beat.

He slips into the church, where he sidles along the walls to perhaps find out what Michael was doing here.

He isn't surprised to see multiple bodies in the pews and near the altar.

 _"Purifying the world,"_ Michael called it. Funny, just looks like meaningless slaughter to Sam.

Dean is above him, so he finds the stairs and ascends. Not on the second level. The steeple it is.

There's a spiral staircase up to the belfry, dusty and dim incandescents lighting the way. Sam creeps up it until he sees a trapdoor above him, closed but unlatched and unlocked.

Well, he thinks. He might have found a decent place to put that sigil.

It's the sigil Dean once tried to use against Gadreel, to try to mute the angel so he could talk to Sam while he was possessed. It  _would_ have worked, or at least Gadreel thought so.

Sam hardly breathes as he works, wondering if Michael can sense him somehow. Or, of course, the archangel might have seen Sam get out of the car if he happened to be looking in that direction. Or somehow sensed that his vessel was being tracked.

The sigil is done. Sam swallows hard at the memory of his hand reaching out, changing this very symbol painted on a door to something else, another spell.

Grimacing, he cuts his palm. Now he has to open the door and activate the spell.

His brother is right next to the door, but is he facing it? Will the hinges squeak and reveal him?

With one hand inches from the sigil, and the other reaching for the handle, Sam takes a deep breath.

Then the door swings open.

Michael isn't just facing him; he was crouching in front of the door, waiting. He takes advantage of Sam's surprise to reach down and grab him by the throat.

Sam lunges to activate the spell, but he doesn't make it. Michael lifts him up fully into the belfry, off his feet.

Sam struggles, but he's losing air, or bloodflow, or both. His hands, clawing at the vise-like pressure on his throat, do nothing against the archangel.

"Dean," he tries with the last breath in his lungs.

Michael promptly shoves Sam halfway out of the belfry, now grasping him by the front of his jacket and his belt. Although his legs are hooked over the railing, there is nothing below Sam's body but air. Michael is well within range of Sam's fists, but the human has just enough sense left in his half-suffocated brain not to attack the only thing stopping him from falling to his death.

Gasping in air, he reaches for his brother's face.

"Dean, I know you can hear me," he says. "You can do it. _We_ are stronger than him."

"Your brother already believes that, Sam. The problem is that there's no way he can take back control of his body without dropping you." Michael peers past his captive to the ground below, possibly to show Dean exactly where Sam would land. "So don't get any ideas about him breaking through in the nick of time."

Sam begins to struggle, which only results in Michael's hand squeezing his throat again.

As his consciousness fades and his hands fall away, he realizes that all of those angels were right. It didn't quite happen the way they thought or when, but it all happened. The Winchesters both said yes. Innocent people died. Michael slew Lucifer.

And now, Sam thinks, he dies at the hands of his older brother. Just like they said.

* * *

Sam gulps in air. Everything is as it was when he blacked out; only seconds must have passed.

It seems Michael isn't going to kill him just yet. The archangel looks angry about something, but then he starts talking.

"I knew you were coming," he explains. "And I knew you would try to paint some silly picture to try to subdue me. I know _everything_ that you're going to try, Sam. I even know what you might try to throw me off."

What's throwing Sam off, aside from the dearth of air, is the fact that he's still alive. Did Michael change his mind? Did he feel the need to monologue before killing him? Or did Dean stop him?

"Then you know... that me and my brother... always win," he gasps out.

"Nobody bats a thousand, Sammy," Michael says in such a perfect imitation of Dean it makes Sam feel sick. "Besides, Dean was always the one leading the charge, remember? What were you doing when he killed Azazel? How would you have stopped Lucifer if Dean hadn't shown up? What was your part when he stopped the Darkness, even after you said you'd take care of her?"

It's strange to Sam that he can see how that would have hurt him under other circumstances, but right now he's impervious to words.

"Look at the tape. Possess us, hex us, make us say awful things, spill our darkest secrets—nothing has ever gotten between us, nothing has ever stopped us. If I were you, I'd get the hell out of Dean and spend the rest of my existence running from us."

Michael smiles slowly. He's about to do something bad, isn't he?

"Oh, I've looked at the tape. And the things I've seen... You have no idea how twisted Dean really is."

Sam waits patiently for Michael to continue—he can't do anything else.

"You probably think I'm talking about how he still remembers how good it felt to torture souls in Hell, and how... orgasmic it was to kill with the Mark of Cain."

"I don't care. He's my brother."

"Do _brothers_ feel the way Dean feels about you?" Michael asks.

Sam's mind, short on oxygen, can't interpret the meaning behind those words.

"What?"

"Really, Sam, I'm surprised you don't know it already."

"Know what?"

"You remember the... drunken escapade that summer when you were a teenager, don't you? Your first time drinking anything stronger than a beer."

Sam concentrates on recalling the first time he got really drunk. It was just him and his brother who wasn't old enough to drink either. He was upset about something, and Dean tried to comfort him.

Things went too far.

He had forgotten. It was easy to pretend it didn't happen when he barely remembered it in the first place, but he can still bring a few images to mind. Ratty old couch, sweaty skin, thin boxer shorts getting tight...

"We-" Sam takes the half breath he's allowed. "We touched each other."

"Then you made yourself forget it because you knew it was just one more way you were a freak, but Dean remembered. He knew what he did with you was wrong, but those feelings... they never really went away."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that siren who was the perfect little brother for him—a little brother who sucked him off before you got back to the motel room that night. I'm talking about who Dean _thought_ would be his deepest, darkest desire. I'm talking about the way you've caught him looking at you over the years."

Although Sam understands what the archangel is trying to tell him, and that it's supposed to be shocking and horrific, it doesn't change anything in his heart or mind. It's irrelevant, if it's even true.

Instead of putting effort into answering, he subtly reaches for the railing that he can't see but has to be there somewhere. If he can grab it, he might be able to pull himself back into the steeple.

"You've got nothing to say to that?" Michael taunts. "Your brother wants to _fuck_ you. Your brother has _fantasized_ about you."

"So?"

That breaks Michael's expectations, finally. He adjusts his grip on Sam's throat.

"You don't care that your brother is sick? That he wants you?"

"No."

"...You can't possibly want him the same way," Michael states. He seems to have staked something significant on Sam being disgusted by the idea.

Confounding the entity is Sam's best hope of getting himself out of this, and saving Dean. Throw him off once, and Michael will start to question whether he really can predict Sam's every move.

"What if I do?" he counters.

The archangel is curious enough to give Sam a little more air. Still, words are costly to get out, so Sam decides to address his brother.

"Dean, I'm sorry. If I'd known..." He doesn't need to finish that statement. "We're freaks, but not sick."

Michael frowns, unsure what he's playing at.

"You can't seduce an archangel with flesh."

"I'm not trying. Just want my brother to know... I feel the same."

Now Michael smiles again.

"Perhaps I could... fix that."

"What?"

"Dean was too much of a coward to ask for what he wanted from you... so I'll take it for him." Michael pulls Sam back into the belfry and shoves him flat onto his back. "We'll see if you still want your brother after this."

And he said you couldn't seduce an archangel with flesh, Sam thinks. He's lying near the trapdoor, which is still open, the sigil waiting for his blood.

Michael isn't stupid; he restrains Sam's arms with his own belt and even heals the cut Sam made earlier. No way to activate the spell now.

Sam struggles against Michael's very slow and methodical removal of everything below the waist, but his brain is working. If he has to endure this, he will, but he'd really, really prefer to stop Michael before things go too far.

He just needs to get his blood to touch the sigil. He can dig his nails into his palm to break the skin, but he wouldn't be able to reach the trapdoor even if he could get his hands free.

Michael removes Sam's boots; he then unbuttons Sam's jeans.

"Dean has dreamed of this moment hundreds of times," he informs Sam as he pulls the zipper down. "Though he always hoped you would be more excited about it."

Even in the midst of physical danger, Sam can't help but feel for his brother when this is over. Dean will be humiliated, at best, and probably hurt when Sam admits he was lying.

As Michael pulls the denim away, exposing Sam's legs to the cool air, he caresses the younger brother's skin.

"Here, Dean," he says. "Feel him. His body is as much yours as your body is mine."

Sam starts to be really, truly afraid of what's about to happen. He's been possessed and tortured, and now he'll be helpless against Michael, too.

Then the idea hits him.

He doesn't have to touch the sigil. Just his blood, and that blood can come from anywhere.

He bites down on his tongue until he tastes blood filling his mouth. This is not going to work, he thinks, but he has to try. Better try and fail than lie here and let Michael use their bodies as psychological weapons.

Michael's hands are hovering over the waistband of Sam's briefs, lowering, fingers sliding underneath.

Sam raises his head, turns it, and spits at the sigil.

It feels like an eternity passes in the fraction of a second he waits. He thought he hit it...

Michael turns his head to look, but the sigil is already glowing, the spell taking effect.

Sam looks up at his brother.

"Dean?"

Dean's hands withdraw from Sam's body; he almost falls in his scramble to back away.

"Sammy." He's shaking and horrified, but he's Dean again.

Sam sits up.

"Can you help me out of this?" he asks, holding up his bound hands.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He frees Sam.

"It's okay," Sam says, reaching for his jeans.

"No, it's not! He would've- I thought I could take control back once you were safe, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough- Are you okay?"

"Dean, I'm fine-" He's cut off by his brother hugging him tightly.

Sam allows himself a couple seconds to bury his face against his brother's neck and feel like he's won. Things will go back to the way they're meant to be; they will fix whatever they know how to fix.

Then he pulls back.

"Dean, I don't know how much time we have. You have to eject Michael _now._ "

"Eject him? So he can possess some other poor son of a bitch and keep hurting people? We have him trapped, Sam!"

"Yeah, inside _you_!" Sam says, pulling his pants back on.

His older brother looks at him as if he's frustrated with Sam's slowness.

"I can use the archangel blade. I can kill him."

"No, no, no, no, we'll find another way," Sam insists, panicking.

"Sam, you know it's the right thing to do."

"That's not why I came, Dean!"

"Then why? Why would you come here on a fucking suicide mission if you weren't doing what I did?"

Success, nearly a decade ago, meant Sam jumped into Hell. It didn't mean Dean got his brother back. And now...

"Dean, you don't have to do this," he tries, but his brother is right. Success means Michael destroyed. They have a chance. They have to take it, for the greater good.

Now Dean is the calmer one of the two. He holds Sam's face in his hands and kisses his forehead.

Tear slip out from under Sam's eyelids. He isn't ready for this. He just wanted his brother back.

When he opens his eyes again, Dean fixes his gaze.

"Sammy, promise you won't do anything stupid."

"I'm gonna look for you."

"I know, just don't do anything stupid."

The younger brother nods.

"By the way," Dean adds, "spitting blood? Gross, but awesome."

That puts a flicker of a smile on Sam's face, though he can only think his brother is trying to distract him from what's about to happen.

Dean gets to his feet and then helps Sam up.

"I just, uh, need a second."

"Right." Sam watches his brother turn away.

Even then, he realizes what his brother is doing. He lets it happen, white-knuckle grip on the railing next to him as Dean plunges the blade into his body.

The sound of an archangel dying is like a dull ache—Sam has no love left for angels. But his brother screaming in agony, that's what makes him feel like he's being stabbed, too.

Shutting his eyes, he waits for the sickening thud of Dean's body hitting the floor before he looks again.

Face-down, fallen onto the blade. Michael's scorched wings are just a dark blur through Sam's tears.

It hurts too much to see it. Sam turns away from the scene and looks down from the belfry. The stone steps below look... welcoming.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean hears scraps of conversation, but the first time he can say he's conscious after dying, he finds himself in Sam's darkened room.

He instinctively knows precisely what and where the object tying him to Earth is—the amulet that Sam gave him, and then kept in his pocket for years. Now it's on Sam's bed, because it's around his brother's neck and his brother is asleep.

This is weird, he thinks. He's been in the Veil a few times now, but he's never been a real ghost like this, abandoned by their reaper.

He isn't strong enough to move objects. He probably can't even make the room cold. Maybe he can mess with the lights once Sam wakes up.

Sam takes forever to wake up, but finally he switches the lamp on.

Dean pokes it. It flickers, and he feels a little faint.

His brother inhales sharply.

"Sammy, come on." Dean proceeds to wave his hand through the lamp, spelling out Sam's name in Morse code for lack of anything better to say.

Sam is sitting on the side of the bed, staring at the lamp.

"... That's impossible."

Dean changes the pattern to spell out his name in Morse. His brother doesn't notice that.

"You are not haunted. You're... Shit, now I'm talking to a dying lightbulb," Sam mutters, rubbing his face. He looks like shit, Dean thinks. After a few seconds, Sam gets out of bed and takes the EMF meter from his bag.

He stands there holding it, reluctant to turn it on for some reason. Maybe too many dashed hopes.

The idiot actually starts to put it down, so Dean tries just plain "SOS."

That gets Sam's attention. He picks up the device again and turns it on, inhaling sharply when it warbles.

"...Dean?"

The ghost waves his hand through the lamp one more time as a yes, but he realizes too late that he wasted his energy. Everything goes dark again.

***

The next time Dean manifests, he's in the kitchen. Sam is alone, picking at a plate of food with as much enthusiasm as Dean would have for a salad.

"Sam?"

Of course Sam doesn't hear him, so Dean picks the light closest to his brother's line of sight, the one over the shelf of dishes. He goes straight for an SOS this time.

His brother recognizes it immediately and gets up from the table.

"Hold on, don't wear yourself out."

Dean follows Sam to his room and makes the light flicker in there, too, when Sam turns it on.

Sam skips the EMF meter and goes straight for the talking board sitting on his desk. He sets it out on his bed, and puts his hands on the planchette.

"Oh, God, it's like a slumber party," Dean sighs. He reaches for the planchette and is shocked to find it solid. "...Son of a bitch."

"Dean, it _is_ you, right?"

Dean moves the planchette to Yes.

"Shit..." Sam gets up to close the door. He's trying not to break down. After a few seconds, he sits on the bed again and clears his throat. "It's good to hear from you, Dean. I miss you. We all do."

MOM

"She's... well, there's no coming back from giving your firstborn son a hunter's funeral. But she and, uh, Bobby, they're hunting together now."

CAS

"Cas is... Cas."

JACK

"He's doing okay, too. He got his powers back, finally. It took a long time for his grace to regenerate."

U

"Me? I'm alive. That's about it." Sighing, Sam changes the subject. "Talk to me, Dean. What the hell are you doing here?"

UNFIN

"Unfinished business?"

Yes

"What is it?"

NEED 2 KNO SOMTHNG

"You need to know something? What?"

IN A HRRY 2 GET RID OF ME

"...God knows I miss you, Dean, but we both know you can't stay here. I just want to help."

Yes, Dean agrees, then adds UR DOING UR JOB

"You're not just some ghost, Dean. You're still you."

4 NOW

"So tell me what this unfinished business is."

Dean thinks.

No

"...No?"

T YET

"Not yet, okay, uh, guess I'll ask again later... Do you know what you're attached to?"

AMULET

"...This?" Sam holds the amulet up with one hand and keeps the other on the planchette.

PUT ME DOWN

That gets Sam to smile.

"Is it okay that I'm wearing it?"

Yes

"I'm surprised Michael kept it," he remarks as he tucks it into his shirt.

USEFUL MAYBE

"And probably not something you can just salt and burn. ...Did you _choose_ to haunt it?"

No JUST HAPPND

As agonizingly slow as it is to respond, Dean talks with his brother a couple hours, until there's a knock on the door.

"Sam?" It's Castiel.

"Wanna talk to Cas?" Sam asks in a low whisper.

Yes

"Cas, come in."

Dean is glad to see his best friend, and even more glad when he realizes his best friend can see him.

"Dean!"

"Hiya, Cas."

"Sam told me he thought you were here. Shouldn't you be in Heaven?"

"I had to know something, before I went. In case I'm going somewhere I won't see Sam."

"What is it?"

"You can see him?" Sam asks, only hearing half the conversation but following it closely.

"To an extent," Cas answers, then addresses the ghost again. "Dean, do you need me to pass a question on?"

"No, I gotta ask this on my own."

"I see... something very personal to you."

Dean glances at his brother. Going by Sam's expression, he's about to guess what missing puzzle piece is tying Dean's spirit to Earth.

"Right. Uh, in case I don't get a chance later, thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything. Pulling me out of Hell ten years ago, keeping an eye on Sam these past few months... How's he really doing?"

Cas admirably doesn't even glance at Sam.

"He's finding his own way, slowly but surely."

"Good," Dean nods  He starts to wonder if he should even ask his question. Maybe it's better he leaves it alone, but if he doesn't find out... "Hey, um, you know the amulet that was supposed to help you find God..."

"Sam has it."

"I know. I'm attached to it. If you needed to destroy it, could you?"

"I don't know if it can be."

"Well, find out."

"I'll look into it immediately."

Without further conversation, Cas leaves the room.

"What's he looking into?" Sam asks once the door is shut.

No THING

"...Right." Sam doesn't believe that for a second. "This is a pain," he says, gesturing to the talking board. "I'm gonna find a way for us for us to talk."

*

Dean follows his brother to the library, where Sam retrieves an armful of books on communicating with spirits.

"You really have to look this stuff up?" Dean sighs, though it goes unheard. "You and your encyclopedia brain?"

Sam also grabs a few generic ingredients and objects for summoning spirits, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

"Dean, you here?" he asks once he locks his bedroom door behind him again.

Dean has to wait for his brother to put a hand on the planchette.

Yes

"I want to talk face to face, like now. I don't want to wait for you to get stronger."

AND CRAZIER

"Right. The sooner we put you to rest, the better. I thought about using magic to power you up somehow, but you told me not to do anything stupid. I know you're still you, but giving a ghost a power boost..."

Yes

"So I'm going to summon you."

Y

"When we summon ghosts, they can't do anything even if they're pissed off. They just stay in the circle."

SMART

"...Thanks."

Sam flips through a couple books until he finds the right spell. Dean doesn't see why they have to be so picky, but he doesn't have a way to whine about the hold-up.

The particular spell Sam chooses has to be cast at midnight, and the hours drag on, but finally it's time.

As soon as his brother finishes the incantation, Dean feels himself being... tugged at.

He closes his eyes and lets it pull him away...

To inside the circle, a few feet from where he was standing. He opens his eyes.

"Sammy, can you see me?"

Sam nods, like he wants to smile but he's afraid to.

"Yeah, I can see you."

Dean pokes at the circle and finds an invisible barrier around him.

"Well, I'm not goin' anywhere." He sits cross-legged on the floor.

Sam also sits, crossing his arms.

"Alright, then, Dean, what the hell? What's so important that you had to stay and become a ghost? Especially after what happened with Bobby?"

"Okay, uh, here goes. Don't say anything until I'm done, okay?"

Sam nods.

"What Michael told you... about how I feel... it was true. I never forgot what it was like to touch you that time... I know we were a couple of drunk kids- well, you were, I was old enough to know better."

His brother opens his mouth to protest but shuts it again.

"Ever since then, Sammy, I've tried to forget. Never could. There were some close calls, too, like that time you... you made me promise to kill you. Back when you were having visions. You were drunk and it almost fucking happened again. So... maybe it shouldn't've thrown me when you said you felt the same way, but it did."

Sam, as promised, says nothing.

"I couldn't believe it. I thought maybe you were just messing with Michael. I guess I just couldn't let go without knowing the truth."

" _That's_ why you ran from your reaper?"

Dean feels really stupid. Hanging on just because he didn't want to go without knowing something about Sam. It's a big one, sure, but it won't make a difference.

"I didn't mean to."

Sam gets up and turns away. He seems angry, but not at Dean.

"What kind of asshole would I be if I lied about something like that?" he asks. "To someone who's been hiding it for decades?"

"You were desperate. I won't be mad or hurt if you were lying, I just... I have to know, Sammy."

"And once I say yes or no, you're gone?"

"Yeah."

"Shit..."

"Sam, if you lied, it's okay. It's enough for me that you can still look me in the eye when you know the truth."

Instead of answering, Sam asks a question:

"If we got Michael out of you and I brought you home, knowing how you felt, what would've happened, d'you think?"

"I would've lied and said he was messing with you, and you woulda said you were messing with him even if you weren't."

"What if I didn't believe you?"

"Then we'd be right here, except you'd just fucking _tell_ me if you were lying to Michael or not."

"No, I wouldn't. I'd ask you what you wanted most from me. And I'd give it to you. And then I'd let you decide whether I was lying to Michael."

"Seriously?"

"I would've been so glad to have you back, I would've done anything, Dean."

"You don't even like guys."

"Neither do you, last I knew."

"Look, I wouldn't take advantage of you like that. Not unless I really thought you wanted me."

"I would have _wanted_ to do that for you, Dean. Just to prove that you're not wrong, or sick. That it doesn't change anything."

Dean understands then that yes, his brother was lying to Michael. His brother means it when he says he doesn't mind, but he doesn't want Dean the same way.

Well, that's it. He can go now.

Something changes then, and Dean's instinctive awareness of what's keeping him in the Veil changes to a feeling of being... trapped.

"Oh, fuck..." he says.

"What?"

"You know how you said you didn't want to do anything stupid?"

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"I don't think I can leave."

"What?"

"Break the circle," Dean says, nodding. "Blow out a candle or something."

Sam snuffs out a candle and watches in shock as Dean steps out of the circle, and remains visible.

He's completely still as Dean reaches out and touches his arm. His fingertips pass through Sam as if there was nothing there.

Sam shivers.

"What the hell just happened?"

"I don't know, but I think I'm gonna be here for a while."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly hate most of this chapter and I apologize for it.

Dean watches his brother flip through the spellbook frantically, looking for an explanation for what just happened.

"Are you sure that was why you're still here?" Sam asks.

"Yes!"

Finally Sam finds something at the back of the book.

"Okay, there's a warning here about summoning spirits that are already in the veil as opposed to those who have passed on."

"What does it say?"

"Don't do it."

"Oh, that's helpful. Does it say why?"

"No, but someone's written 'e.g. Case 199' in the margin next to it."

"Great, more reading."

Sam sighs as he closes the book and sets it down.

"Back to the archives," he says. He pauses at the door. "...You coming?"

"I should probably stay outta sight for now. I don't know how to make myself invisible."

"...I'll be back soon."

*

Dean is pleasantly surprised when Sam comes back with a file barely two minutes later.

"Case 199."

"What's it say?"

"Let's find out."

Sam opens the envelope and sets it on his desk so Dean can read it, too.

"Case 199... Describing events occurring March 3rd to 4th, 1929..." Sam murmurs before Dean interrupts:

"Hang on, does that say _Edward_ Winchester?"

"We're legacies, remember? Could be Henry's dad."

"Just read it, tell me the good parts," Dean says, backing off a couple steps.

"Okay, so Edward Winchester was communicating with the ghost of someone who'd died a few months earlier with a talking board, and he had the same idea as me, summon it so they could converse face to face. It worked, Edward got what he needed, but then the ghost couldn't leave when they were done."

"What'd he do?"

"The ghost told Edward where its body was buried, so he went to take care of it. While he was gone... the ghost just snapped." Sam's voice weakens slightly. "It became extremely violent and possessed someone, killed another person, and injured four more before Edward, miles away with no idea what was happening, burned the body."

"Maybe the ghost was already crazy when he was alive, too."

Sam just looks at his brother.

"The theory is that summoning a ghost that's already here speeds up the mental decay for some reason, and the spirit basically turns into a poltergeist."

"Well, maybe with _that_ spell. You didn't use the same spell he did."

When his brother doesn't respond, Dean shuts his eyes and sighs.

"Tell me it wasn't the same spell."

"...I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean's shoulders slump. How long does he have before he hurts somebody? Before he hurts _Sam?_

"Okay, we've got... hours? A day? Before I go crazy. There are other people in the bunker, right? You gotta get them out so if things go sideways, I won't hurt anyone."

"'If'?"

"Like, if you and Cas can't find a way to destroy the amulet in time."

"The amulet?"

"You gotta melt it down or something."

"Right, right..." Sam is trying not to break down.

"Hey, you're not the first person to make this mistake," Dean points out.

Sitting on the bed, Sam rubs his face.

"You told me not to do anything stupid, and I didn't. I've been taking it one day at a time. Then as soon as I had a chance to talk to you, I fucked up."

"Shit happens, Sam. We just gotta deal with it before it gets worse."

*

About an hour later, Sam and Cas come into the room together.

"Dean?"

"Hey, fellas." He's been bored, but didn't want to risk being seen.

"We evacuated everyone. Told them I found a cursed object."

"Now you just gotta lock me down somewhere until you take care of the amulet. Find anything yet, Cas?"

"Mentions here and there of an artifact that burns bright in the presence of the highest power," Cas says, "But nothing of use. I'll get back to work."

"I'll be right behind you," Sam says to dismiss the angel. Cas leaves, Sam lingers, sitting on his bed.

"This is all my fault, Dean."

"You didn't know what that spell would do."

"No, your being a ghost in the first place. I lied because I thought-"

"You thought that you could mind-fuck an archangel."

"Yeah."

"It worked. He wouldn't have tried to hurt you if you didn't lie. I stopped him from choking you to death, but he would've killed you, one way or another, if he didn't love irony so much." Dean shudders; he hates how close he was to hurting his brother. It makes him sick to think he couldn't stop Michael from touching Sam. Was it because deep down, he wanted to?

"I don't want to know how to burn or melt down this amulet, Dean. You're not just another job, another ghost to put down." Sam is still wearing the necklace, like he's afraid to take it off.

Dean reaches for Sam out of habit, to pat him on the shoulder, but his hand just falls through his brother.

Maybe that ghost ninety years ago went only went crazy because he couldn't fucking touch anything, he thinks. If he just kind of zens his way into being able to touch things, maybe he'll last longer.

Sam looks up.

"What are you doing?"

"Focusing, so shut up."

Wary, Sam watches as Dean reaches for him again.

"Can you feel anything?"

"No."

Things get weird then, as some new sixth sense gives Dean the impression that there is something to grasp, to take hold of. His eyes are locked with his brother's, until suddenly they're not.

Then Dean feels different- No, he feels _something_. He has a body again. He's sitting on Sam's bed.

Wait.

He looks at his hands, his clothes. This isn't his body.

He gets up and goes to the mirror.

"Son of a bitch," Dean sighs, but he hears something much more like his brother's voice. Which isn't a surprise, seeing as he is definitely inside of and in control of Sam's body.

The first thing he does is give in to the urge to run his hands through Sam's hair. It's so nice and soft, Dean thinks he could do that for hours.

Wait, where's Sam?

Dean shuts his eyes and tries to find his brother. Is he... hiding?

He doesn't find Sam, but he encounters memories of being possessed, of hurting people, of being completely helpless.

Sam is scared of what he might be forced to do to other people.

 _GET OUT OF ME!_ he suddenly shouts in his mind, fighting Dean's very presence.

"Sammy, hold on, I'm not gonna do anything bad."

_That's not the point. Just... don't do this to me._

Dean holds his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, fine, take control back."

He shrinks away, and Sam takes control again. His body shakes with tension.

_Sam, sit down. You're safe._

"Safe?" Sam scoffs to his reflection. "You're possessing me."

_I didn't mean to, Sam. Honest._

"Whatever, just get out of me."

_No. As long as I'm inside you, you're safe from me._

"Other people have gotten hurt every time I was possessed."

_There's no one here but Cas. He can take care of himself. Why don't you go tell him that I'm staying inside you for your protection? ...For me, Sam?_

Sam is still freaking out, but when he views it as a request from Dean, he nods.

"Okay, deal."

*

Although Dean restrains himself from looking at Sam's memories, he's subject to his brother's every thought.

Mostly Sam is thinking about what he's reading, as he and Cas go through pages and pages of lore, but his mind is quick and can wander in many directions, some relevant to the issues at hand, others barely tangental.

Dean thinks listening to it would be annoying if he hadn't spent the last weeks of his life apart from his brother. He kind of wants to do something silly or mischievous while he's in Sam's head, but he came in uninvited and Sam is going against his every instinct by not grabbing some iron—which probably wouldn't work, from what the file on Case 199 says.

Sam, full of love, faith, and loyalty, is willing to let his brother stay in his head because Dean is asking. He'd do anything Dean asked. If Dean had admitted his feelings for him before, he would have given it a try just to make his brother happy.

He craves Dean's approval; he hardly knows what to do with himself without Dean.

A small part of Sam even hopes that they never find a way to destroy the amulet, so he can just stay in the bunker with Dean forever. He'd rather have Dean in his head than be parted forever, which is something he deeply fears will happen.

Dean wants to reassure his brother that won't happen, but if he really believed they'd see each other again, he wouldn't have become a ghost.

*

Sam is exhausted and overwhelmed. Dean hasn't turned yet, but he could at any time.

"Sam, you need rest," Castiel insists when Sam almost dozes off over a book.

 _He's right, Sam. You should get some sleep_ _,_ Dean puts in.

"But-"

_When I turn, Sam, you want to be rested._

"I'll keep looking," the angel promises.

It takes a little more convincing, but finally Cas and Dean talk Sam into going to bed.

He trudges to his bedroom and lies on his bed, wondering how he's supposed to sleep when he's positive that he'll wake up to an angry ghost controlling his body and trying to hurt Cas.

 _Angels trump ghosts,_ Dean reassures him.  _Relax, Sam. What do you do when you can't sleep?_

Sam has a lot of answers to that question ranging from getting drunk, to research, to jerking off.

Amused, Dean wonders when the last time Sam did that was.

The answer is a while. Sam's usual cure for insomnia these days is drinking. Or just keeping himself busy until he's ready to collapse.

_What are you gonna do after this?_

"Same thing I've been doing."

Which means helping out other hunters when asked, binge-drinking, lying to Mom about how he's doing, and just kind of waiting for an excuse to get dead. Everything is meaningless to Sam now. Life is empty without Dean.

"I'm sorry," he says when he realizes Dean sees his desolation.

_For what?_

"You were supposed to think I was coping, that I had a future ahead of me. I'm not. I don't."

_You only feel that way because I stuck around. Once I move on, you can, too._

"Do you really believe that?"

_Yes. You don't need me to be happy._

Sam doesn't agree.

_You just need to try, Sam. Promise me you'll try to be happy._

"What if that means trying to get out of the Life?"

_Then do it. Get married, name a kid after me._

Sam doesn't feel any more optimistic, but he promises to give it a try.

_Thank you. Now close your eyes and try to relax._

Sam is reminded of phone sex.

Dean laughs in his head.

_And here I thought I had a dirty mind._

Sam wonders, before he can stop himself from thinking it, if his brother would like it if he touched himself.

 _Would you like doing that for me?_ Dean asks.

"Maybe. I- I don't know." Sam's mind is racing; he's nervous and feels wrong even thinking about it, but is also aware that his body has been neglected in that department.

_It's up to you, Sam._

"If I wanted to do that, what would you want me to do first?"

Dean barely knows what to say. Of course he wants to see this, see how Sam pleasures himself when he's alone, but does his brother want this?

_Start by taking off your clothes, but only if it turns you on._

Sam thinks for a while, wanting to do this for Dean but scared. Is he really going to do this with his brother's ghost?

He sits up and with nervous, shaking hands takes off his flannel, boots, and socks. He pulls off his t-shirt after a pause.

Dean really misses having a body of his own when he realizes his brother is getting turned on by sheer anticipation.

 _Look at_ _yourself, Sam. You're perfect._

"I'm really not."

_I think you are. Whenever I saw you without a shirt, I wanted to run my hands over your body. Will you do that for me?_

Sam runs his palms over his chest, letting his brother feel the muscles underneath his skin. He's not ashamed of his body, even if he doesn't look as good as he once did.

Dean thinks that's bullshit. Sam's body is always perfect.

_Do you want to do this?_

"Yeah, I think so." Sam is like an anxious virgin, Dean thinks.

_When you're ready, take everything else off._

After a couple seconds, Sam nods and strips off his jeans and briefs. The amulet is still around his neck; he's not sure if he should take that off, too. Dean said everything.

_You can keep the amulet on._

Now Sam feels really dirty, but in a good way.

_Lie down but keep your head propped up so I can see your body._

Sam keeps his eyes on the expanse of his body as he reclines, allowing Dean to take it in. His cock isn't hard yet, but it isn't soft.

He's deciding what memory or fantasy to get off on. That's how he usually does it.

 _I would've liked to suck you off,_ Dean confesses before he can stop himself.

"Really?"

_Really. Now touch your body for me again... Yeah, really feel it... Fuck, I'd be so hard right now._

Dean both feels and sees his brother's body react to that, his cock firming up. He thinks maybe he won't need a memory.

_Does that make you hot, thinking about me drooling over your cock? Sitting between your legs, trying not to touch myself?_

Sam closes his eyes, girls forgotten.

"Tell me more."

_Sometimes I'd lie on my bed, naked, without touching myself, and imagine going down on you. Just you taking your cock out and letting me work._

Sam pictures himself in the library, opening his fly, taking out his dick, and Dean dropping to his knees to suck him off.

_Yeah, just like that, Sam. I could fantasize about that for hours, and then just finish myself with one move._

Sam is breathing faster, losing his insecurities and gaining physical desire. He's a little confused that his own brother is getting him this excited, but it's been a while for him, and even longer since he got a blowjob.

 _Open your eyes again. ...Shit, you're hard as a rock_ _._ Dean fights the urge to take control of Sam's body just to touch his dick.  _Sammy, for fuck's sake._

Sam licks his hand before wrapping it around his cock. He feels so wrong doing this it's looped back around to being hot.

This is incredible, Dean thinks. He can feel his brother relaxing, enjoying himself. He'll never get to pleasure Sam himself, but fuck, if this isn't the next best thing...

He wishes he could ask Sam to let him take over for a minute, but his brother would hate having someone else controlling things. It's beyond a privilege just to be in Sam's head while he does this.

_Will you try something for me, Sam?_

"What?" He's feeling good, really good, and he would close his eyes but he's looking at himself for Dean's sake.

_Ever put a finger in your ass when you did this?_

Dean looks at his brother's memories and learns the answer is yes, he's tried it.

_Suck on your middle finger. Show me what you would've liked me to do to your dick._

Sam's tongue swirls and flicks over his middle finger. Dean wonders if his brother ever would have done that to him, gone down on his knees and pleasured him.

_Finger yourself._

Right hand pausing, Sam's left reaches down, past his balls, and finds his hole. Gently, very gently, he slides his spit-slicked finger inside.

It's more of an intrusion than anything else, but Sam knows what he's doing and soon finds the sweet spot. He gasps and starts to stroke himself again.

 _Not gonna last much longer, Dean,_ he tells his brother.

Dean doesn't even know what to say; he just wants his brother to feel good. He wants to see his brother lose it, see Sam give himself over to pleasure completely.

Sam hits the point of no return.

 _Yeah, just like that,_ Dean encourages. _Come for me._

"Dean!"

In all the ways Dean has ever heard his brother say his name, whether in wonder, or anger, or a plaintive cry for help, he never imagined hearing it like this, an erotic expression of desire.

And he really never imagined having this view of come shooting from Sam's cock. Fuck, it's all over his stomach like a porno.

Nor did he imagine his brother knowing how to drag it out, massaging his prostate until another load of come runs down his cock and over his fingers.

_Oh my God, Sam._

His brother wants so badly to make Dean happy, he's almost hurting himself, stimulating his oversensitive cock. The last of his come trickles out and he whimpers Dean's name again.

Panting, dripping with sweat, Sam closes his eyes.

 _I just had sex with my brother's ghost,_ he thinks, not especially meaning for Dean to hear it.

_That was the hottest thing I've ever seen._

Sam can't remember the last time he came that hard on his own. He barely remembers the last time he came that hard with someone else.

"Do you think this is what would've happened if we'd gotten together before?"

_I hope so._

"...I would have loved seeing you happy, if I saw you come like I just did," Sam thinks aloud. "I would have told you yes, I wanted you, just because I wanted to... take care of you in some way."

Dean thinks on that for a few seconds.

Suddenly, he senses something nearby.

_Sam, look up and to your right._

"Why?"

Dean sees the reaper Jessica. Sam doesn't.

"What is it?"

_Nothing. Get some sleep._

"I don't want to. You'll be gone when I wake up."

Dean doesn't know what to say. He has a chance to leave; he has to take it.

_...Take care of yourself, Sammy._

§§§

Sam can feel it when his brother's spirit leaves his body.

"Dean?"

He keeps an eye on his lamp as he gets up and touches the planchette on the talking board.

Nothing happens.

He gets the EMF meter and turns it on. It's silent, even when Sam takes off the amulet and holds it directly in front of the device.

*

"You didn't do anything?" Sam asks Cas for the millionth time.

"No, Sam. What happened?"

"I think... Dean was holding on because he needed to know something, but when I summoned him I fucked it up, and it changed. He didn't know it, but his unfinished business was that he had to know what would have happened."

"What are you talking about?"

Sam shakes his head. He'll take his brother's secret to the grave.

"Dean's moved on. That's what we have to try to do now."


End file.
